Infection
by Erithil
Summary: Taking risks to fulfill a dream is something Zoro understands. But what should you do when you have to choose between a dream and risking life, especially if it is the life of one of your nakama? A Zoro & Sanji friendship fic. [Complete]
1. Default Chapter

Author's note: I have no idea why Sanji is always the one to be injured/sick/dying in my stories…and it's too cliché I know. Sorry about that in advance. Anyway, this fic is meant to explore the friendship Zoro and Sanji have. Set before Chopper joined the crew for obvious reasons.

Erm…it's my first multi-chaptered story…not too sure how it'll turn out. Fingers crossed? Right. Then let's go.

Disclaimer: One Piece and all characters mentioned are created by Eiichiro Oda.

**The First Sign of Trouble**

Sanji ate a grand total of two spoonfuls of rice and half a bowl of soup at dinner.

Zoro wasn't the only who had noticed it, but he happened to be the one tasked to find out what's wrong with that idiot. Nami reasoned that Luffy had been too busy stuffing his face to even notice, Usopp was too scared of the cook after he got snapped at when he made a comment about it.

And she wouldn't do it because it's probably a guy thing.

The swordsman scowled. Stupid Nami and her stupid reasoning. And she had the nerve to sweetly remind him of the money he owed her.

So he found himself waiting for the cook to finish his duties in the kitchen. The moon shone down on the deck, reminding him that it was late and mocking the fact that he was wasting quality sleep time doing a thankless task. He glowered darkly at the moon. What was taking that dumbass so long tonight?

Presently, he saw the galley door open and Sanji emerged, then trudged towards the stern. There, he stood staring out across the dark waters, elbows resting against the railing, a single lit cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers.

A picture of brooding, if he ever saw one, Zoro thought as he approached him.

"Oi."

Sanji spared him an irritated sideway glance before looking away and taking a drag of his cigarette. "Go away, bastard."

Seeing that he was going to be his usual wonderfully obnoxious self, he decided to cut to the heart of the issue. "Out with it. What's wrong?" He said matter-of-factly.

One curly brow rose. "What?"

"You heard me." He growled, his limited patience slipping. "Something's bothering you. So let's hear it."

Sanji's smirk made him want to punch his face in, especially since it complemented the sarcasm dripping from his voice perfectly. "My my, Zoro. I didn't know you gave a damn about me."

"I don't." His hands were slowly curling into fists. "Nami told me to find out and that woman would hound me till I do. So let's hear it then I can go to sleep."

"Nami-san?" For a moment, a dreamy smile crossed his face but it was gone a second later. "Yeah well, nothing's wrong." He made a shooing motion with his cigarette in the direction of the men's cabin. "Now go."

"Why you shitty cook…!" Zoro aimed a punch at his head. But Sanji's reflexes were oddly slow that night, having time only to bring up his hand instead of his leg to block the coming fist. They connected solidly.

It was just like one of the numerous fights they have each day, but Sanji jumped back upon impact, clutching his wrist with a grimace.

Zoro frowned but the cook was already throwing a kick his way. He dodged the blow and rushed forward, catching hold of Sanji by the arm. Before the blond could recover, he had loosened the cuff and pushed the sleeve back. "What's this?"

Sanji snatched his hand back with a curse, the white bandage sporting dark stains of seeping blood around his wrist showed plainly in the moonlight. "Just a scratch, you idiot."

"Scratches don't hurt this much and they don't bleed through the bandages." He strode forward and grabbed his arm again, grinning tightly. "Trust me, I know wounds."

"Yeah, you would, wouldn't you." Sanji sneered.

"And obviously you don't know enough." The bandages were damp with dishwater, and badly bound. Small wonder the wound was still bleeding.

"It's kinda hard to do it with only one hand and teeth, okay?" He sniped back defensively. Then, he took a deep drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out slowly as if defeated.

"Fine, go ahead and look." He scowled, still managing to sound irate as he allowed Zoro to probe at the bandage. However, his thin shoulders sagged, seeming very tired all of a sudden. "It's just a cut from that last run in with the marines."

"But that's almost two weeks ago." It had been a small scuffle. His own injuries had long healed and he assumed everyone else's had too.

"Are you saying I'm weak?" A hint of challenge and annoyance tinged his voice.

He shrugged and didn't answer, instead concentrating on unraveling the bandage. The wound was coming clear now and he didn't like the way it looked. He gave a low whistle once the wound was exposed. "No shit. This is bad."

The gash was long and deep, darkly wet with blood, stretching across the forearm to end above the wrist. In the long weeks it had festered and was now swollen with infection. He imagined the times the cook spent washing dishes, soaked up to the elbows in soapy water, couldn't have been good for the wound either.

The shape of the slash could still be vaguely seen, but mostly, it was a mass of ragged red flesh half-grown to form a scar before it was pulled apart and kept from healing properly by the constant use of the arm. The edges of the wound were puckered and had gone white from being kept damp for so long, contrasting vividly with the angry red of the surrounding skin. When the wind blew his way, Zoro swore he could even detect the faint stench of rot in the air.

Sanji held his hand up and looked at it appraisingly. "Hmmm…not too pretty, huh?" He said lightly, almost jokingly, but the swordsman could hear the undercurrents of anxiety in his voice. The cook's cheeks were flushed, even more so than during dinner when Zoro had thought was due to the wine and Nami. He shot out a hand, shoved aside the blond fringe and felt his forehead.

"Hey! Hey!" Sanji cursed, swatting at his hand, but as if movement alone hurt his injured arm, he winced.

"You're feverish." He announced grimly.

"As if I didn't know already." The cook replied with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

"We should get Nami." Amongst them all, she was probably the one most knowledgeable about doctoring.

But Sanji's response was immediate and firm. "No! You will not bother Nami-san." He took a deep breath and looked away out towards the sea again. "We're at least a month away from port." He admitted softly. "I don't want her to worry."

Zoro felt his brows knit into a dark frown. He hadn't thought of that. A month. If that wound were to get worse…

Then, Sanji straightened and squared his shoulders. "Like I said, it's nothing. Stop fussing like an old woman." He flicked the remains of his cigarette nonchalantly out into sea with his good hand. "I just need to sleep the fever off and it'll be all better in the morning."

"I guess that could happen…" Zoro said slowly, still eyeing the festering monstrosity on the cook's wrist. "Let's get that cleaned up some at least." He added gruffly, trying to match Sanji's unconcerned tone.

The cook sighed once, deeply, closing his eyes briefly for a moment. "Yeah, okay." He said quietly.

There was no fight in his voice, no argument, no sneer nor sarcasm. And that-more than the tired slump of his shoulders, the pallor of his face, and the faint lines of pain around his eyes now that he was studying the cook more closely-worried him.

It also annoyed the hell out of him.

Roronoa Zoro was unflappable. Roronoa Zoro did not worry. Least of all for that stupid cook.

But he didn't comment. Sanji followed him into the kitchen and was silent as Zoro cleaned the wound as best as he could and splashed on some rum. Sanji hissed in pain, bit off a curse, then took a mighty swig of the same rum. Fresh bandages in place, he tugged his sleeve down to hide the wound and fastened the cuff around his wrist.

He also didn't comment when he noted that the cook was stumbling a bit by the time they got to the cabin. Didn't comment as he watched his crewmate crawl into his hammock with a weary sigh, reaching for a blanket even though the weather was warm and the cabin was stuffy.

Without a word, Zoro lay in his own hammock and watched through half-closed eyes, feeling his annoyance build. Only when Sanji's breathing evened out and the stillness in his lanky frame betrayed that he was asleep, did the swordsman turn over and shut his eyes, muttering an angry oath.

"Idiot."


	2. A Simple Matter of Faith

Thanks for the reviews everyone! I'm so encouraged when I read them, especially as I'm still uncertain how the story will turn out. Feel free to point out stuff you don't like about the fic too. Thanks once again. :)

**A Simple Matter of Faith**

"Sanji! Breakfast! Sanji! Breakfast! Now! Now! I want breakfast now!"

Luffy's enthusiastic chant flittered through consciousness and roused him awake. He yawned, clamped his eyes shut and tried to go back to sleep but with the racket going on, it was quite impossible. And it was beginning to slowly dawn on him that breakfast wasn't usually a meal Luffy had to ask for. Sanji was always up before everyone else to see to the morning meal.

"Sanji!" Luffy's voice took on a serious edge all of a sudden, somehow having even more urgency than before. "Hey, Sanji! It's not funny. Wake up!"

Zoro sat up blearily, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Could'ya keep it down, Luffy? Try'in to sleep."

Their captain was slapping at Sanji's face and shaking his shoulder, looking puzzled but with increasing alarm. "Zoro!" He looked over once he realized his first-mate was awake. "Something's wrong with Sanji! He won't wake up."

The slight apprehension in their normally fearless captain's voice finally triggered him into full wakefulness. He went over and shook the cook roughly. "Oi! Dumbass!"

But Sanji remained silent, his eyes closed, completely unresponsive. He only whimpered softly and tried to curl away when Zoro accidentally brushed against his injured hand.

"See? See?" Luffy poked at the cook's side repeatedly with a finger, as if he needed to provide more evidence for his claim. "He won't wake up."

Zoro frowned. The feverish flush across Sanji's chiseled cheekbones was even more pronounced in the morning light, vivid against the impossible pallor of the rest of his face. A brief touch with his hand against his forehead confirmed his fears.

The stupid cook was burning up.

"Luffy, get Nami. Quick."

Luffy stood staring down at the cook's unconscious face for a moment longer, then he nodded and catapulted out of the room, screaming Nami's name.

Zoro growled, annoyed. "Stupid cook." Slipping an arm beneath the thin shoulders and another under his knees, he lifted the limp form from the hammock and carried his crewmate across the room, dumping him unceremoniously on the couch.

Sanji barely stirred, not even when the voice of his darling Nami-san sounded as she came into the cabin. "What's wrong?" Usopp echoed her question as he followed her in.

He shrugged and knelt down by the couch, taking the cook's arm and pushing back the sleeve to show them. The bandage was still neatly bound but dark stains once again spotted the white linen. "Asshole's been hiding his injury for weeks. Now it's worse."

"A lot worse." He snorted as he worked the bandages loose. The last piece of dressing came free, leaving the wound clear for all to see.

They froze. Usopp gasped and covered his eyes behind his hands, taking an involuntary step back. Nami's face paled and she bit her lip. Only Luffy gave voice to his thoughts.

"Cool! What the heck is that!" He exclaimed, curiously reaching out to poke at the swollen flesh, excited as he always was when he encountered something new and interesting.

"Don't." Nami slapped his inquisitive hand away, suddenly all business-like. She knelt down and took Sanji's arm gently, examining the wound more closely. "It's an infection." She said, her voice tight. "And it's not good."

Zoro had to agree with her on that. If possible, the injury looked even more ghastly than it had last night. The swelling was much worse, stretching the skin taunt and straining the ragged edges of the gash. The colour hadn't improved either, redness giving way to a hideous purple shade.

"Are there other injuries?" She asked without looking up, checking Sanji's temperature and pulse, but she inclined her head towards Zoro so it was clear who she directed the question to. "Is anything else wrong with him?"

The swordsman scowled. Why this woman thought he cared to know anything about the cook was beyond him. He was about to answer when his captain beat him to it.

"Yeah! He won't wake up!" Luffy bounced up and down on his toes impatiently, pouting. "Hurry up and make him better Nami. I'm hungry! I want food! Food!"

"Hey, uh…Luffy." Usopp gripped his shoulder with both hands to stop him, urging him to be quiet. "Now's not such a good time, ok?" He gestured meaningfully towards Nami with his long nose, frowning worriedly.

Luffy blinked and stared at his navigator. She sat completely still on the ground, head bowed so that her face was hidden by the fall of her orange hair. The silence in the room was only disturbed by the harsh sounds of shallow, ragged breathing from the man on the couch.

"Nami?" Luffy must have finally sensed the gravity of the situation, for his voice was quiet.

She nodded but didn't answer him. She didn't look at any of them. Then she took a deep breath and said softly but clearly. "Zoro. Get your sword."

Trained by habit, his hand was already automatically reaching for his weapons by his side, lifting a blade a few inches from the scabbard before he stopped. "Why? What do you want with them?"

She paused, almost as if considering. "You're right. We don't have to use a sword." Her voice trembled. "Usopp? Could you get the meat cleaver from the kitchen? I think Sanji-kun keeps it in the drawer near the stove."

"_What!_" All three of them cried out in unison, suddenly realizing her intentions.

"Er…Nami…" Usopp found his voice first. "You can't mean to…to…amputate Sanji's arm. I mean…I mean…Think about it!"

"Argh! Nami! You want to chop off Sanji's arm!" Luffy's eyes were round with horror.

She looked up at them abruptly with an angry toss of orange hair. "You think I want to?"

There was pain and regret in her voice but her eyes were fierce and determined. She stood up to face them, her hands clenched into tight fists. "The infection is spreading, poisoning him! It'll kill him if we don't stop it now!"

As to support her point, Sanji moaned and tried to curl around his pain, his thin frame shuddering as a sudden spasm rippled through him.

"Don't you see? We have to cut off his arm before it kills him."

"That's true, but…" Usopp was nodding his head slowly, his face twisted with consternation.

Zoro watched the discussion go on between his crewmates, not really hearing any of it. The world had gone silent.

_Nami wants to cut off Sanji's arm._ He felt sick.

He knew the reason why the cook fought only with his feet and had often laughed at it. Although he sometimes thought Sanji too prissy about not hurting his hands, he knew how important they were to him. They were the key to his dream, they represented his dream. His dream, the very thing that gave everything he ever did meaning.

_To take that away from him…_

But without the amputation, he might die.

_His dream or his life. _

Zoro closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. No one should be made to make that choice other than the cook himself. And it was obvious Sanji was unable to do that at the moment.

Right there and then, Zoro made up his mind.

_Have faith…_

"We don't know that for sure."

They spun as one to look at him. Zoro nodded resolutely. "We don't know for sure the infection would kill him."

"Are you serious?" Nami cried in exasperation, shaking a finger at Sanji's comatose form. "Look at him! His fever is so high, he's slipped into unconsciousness. Any more of this, he'll die! What more proof do you need?"

"He'll get better. We've got to give him a chance!" Zoro glared at the navigator. "He'll fight this infection off and get better."

"Well, you can't know that for sure either."

"He'll get better." He repeated. "I trust him."

And he was surprised that he really meant it. Although he habitually scorned at Sanji's weaknesses, he recognized his strengths too. The stupid cook was too damn proud to be defeated by a mere infection.

At the very least, he believed this about his crewmate. He had to.

Nami gritted her teeth like she was at the end of her patience. She shot the others a glare. "Talk some sense into him."

Usopp gulped and fingered his nose nervously. "You know, Nami…Zoro may be right. But of course you may be right too…"

She let out a low exasperated growl and took half a step towards the couch.

He hardly knew what he was doing. The metallic ring of his sword leaving its sheath was loud in the small cabin. "You are _not_ touching him."

Nami stared at the slender white katana pointed at her in disbelief. Then, her face twisted into a mask of outrage. "Luffy!"

Their captain did not answer, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her. In fact, he gave no indication he heard her at all. He had taken off his straw hat and held it tightly between his hands, staring at it absently with the strange faraway look he sometimes had in his eyes.

"Fine!" She exploded, storming towards the door. "But I tell you," She leveled an accusing finger at Zoro. "You're letting him die!" And with that, she slammed the door and was gone.

Zoro turned to Usopp. He must have looked terribly intimidating for the sharpshooter took one look at the sword still held in his hand and backed towards the door, laughing that strained laugh of his. "Go…go ahead, Zoro. I know you're right."

The room was deathly silent after Usopp left. He hesitated, still gripping his katana, and cast an uncertain sideway glance at Luffy. It was one thing to point his sword at his crewmates, and another to point it at Luffy.

It was mutiny to raise a weapon against the captain.

"Zoro." Luffy's voice was quiet, a somber tone he rarely used.

"Yeah?"

"We're risking a lot, aren't we?" He was strangely thoughtful, the dilemma of the situation showed plainly in his dark eyes, as surely as it waged war in his Zoro's own mind.

_His dream or his life…_

"Yes, yes we are."

"Promise Sanji won't die?"

He sighed. "He won't, I promise." The alternative was too terrible to contemplate.

Luffy nodded, then pulled the straw hat firmly over his head and flashed his first-mate his trademark confident grin. "Then make him better, ya?" It was as if the seriousness had never been.

He groaned. "It's not so easy, Luffy…"

"It can be done." He smiled, still jovial but with a hint of the earlier seriousness which showed his unspoken support for Zoro's decision. "I trust you."

Trust never felt this much a burden. But he found himself nodding and smiled back.

"Hey, do you think limes will help?" Luffy asked suddenly.

"Limes?"

"Yeah! Like that time with Yosaku." He beamed excitedly. "It made him better!"

"Uh, I don't think…"

"I'll go find some!"

"Wait! Luffy!"

But his captain was already bouncing out of the cabin, on a headlong rush to the storage room, crashing noisily into things along the way with that single-minded blindness that always seemed to strike him whenever he was seized up by an idea.

Zoro sighed and pressed a hand over his eyes. He could feel a headache coming. He turned and frown at the figure lying unconscious on the couch.

"Look what you got me into, you bastard."


	3. Fire and Ice

Thanks for the reviews everyone! I was a bit apprehensive about the amputation idea…wondering how everyone will react, but I guess it went over okay, maybe a bit shocking for some. (smile)

To mushi-azn: Why must I always put Sanji through pain? A deeply philosophical question. (ponders) Well…such trials are good for his character development…or maybe the author is a sadist who liked to see well-loved characters suffer. Hmmm…definitely the former I think. (nodding sagely) Alright, I'll write something in which Sanji is relatively pain-free and reasonably happy next time, okay? (grin)

On with the story…

**Fire and Ice**

The thin column of mercury shimmered as he angled it this way and that, squinting to make out the reading in the dim light.

There was no change, there hadn't been any all day.

"Damn!" He swore, starting to slam the thermometer down on the table, only to remember that it was fragile at the last moment and set it carefully down instead, opting to express his frustration with another curse.

Between trying to keep Usopp quiet as he fired off suggestions alongside tales of his time as a great doctor, and stopping an overzealous Luffy who tried to stuff limes down the cook's throat every time his back was turned, Zoro felt his temper worn too short already. It was a wonder the cook hadn't died from their ministrations. Finally, at the end of his tolerance, he had chased them both from the cabin to sleep in the storage hold.

Zoro heaved a deep sigh. For the thousandth time it seemed, he dunked the towel into the cool water, wrung it out, then pressed it to Sanji's fevered brow.

The fever had not cooled even a degree and Sanji showed no sign of waking. Sometimes, he lay silent, as still as death. Other times, he tossed about, muttering unintelligibly; whether tormented by bad dreams or the pain from his wound Zoro could never tell. But he knew with grim certainty, that as long as the fever did not break, the cook was unlikely to regain consciousness.

If this was to go on…

Sanji moaned appreciatively against the cool comfort of the damp towel but paradoxically shivered at the chill. His thin frame shook convulsively for a moment from a sudden fit of coughing, making his already labored breathing even shallower.

He twitched, brows knitting with pain as Zoro stretched out his arm and started picking at the bandages to clean the wound. Bringing the lamp closer, he scrutinized the wound closely, lightly touching the swollen flesh and testing the edges of the cut gingerly, seeking for a sign of improvement.

Seeking, although he already knew he would find none.

His shoulders slumped. For a moment, he sat very still, his hand closed over the long slender fingers. Sanji's hands were very cold, he noted absently, contrasting sharply with heat of the inflamed wound and the fire that raged within him.

The fever was, slowly but surely, burning the life right out of him.

And he was helpless to do anything about it.

The band of ice around his heart tightened just a little more, involuntarily. He looked away from his charge and stared out of the window. Night had fallen and it was dark outside. With the ship so quiet at this late hour, the thoughts crowding his mind were disturbingly loud, urging him reconsider his earlier brashness.

What if the fever wouldn't break? What if Sanji never woke? What if that shitty cook died because _he_ screwed up by choosing his dream over his life?

Zoro buried his face in his hands with a low growl of frustration. He barely knew where his original conviction came from. Although he loathed admitting it, he was beginning to think that perhaps, just perhaps, Nami was right after all…

Abruptly, he straightened with an angry shake of his head, trying to dislodge the 'what ifs' chasing around in his mind. He fixed the infection with a dark, determined scowl.

This was a battle. No different from any of the other fights he had been in. He had chosen a side and he would do his best, stick it out, to whatever end it might lead.

Sanji groaned, shifting restlessly under the blankets, entire body tensed as he struggled against an unseen enemy.

The cook had a strong spirit. He wouldn't give up without a fight. And Zoro imagined if he were awake and knew his doubts, he would surely have kicked him half a dozen times in the head for it.

He smiled, a feral grin some may say, as he continued to glare at the injury.

A battle. Now this, _this_ he could understand.

A swordsman's techniques, especially his, were suited for fighting alone and he was certainly used to facing down opponents on his own. But the first time Sanji was with him during a battle, he had been amazed at how well they fought together. That had been back at Arlong Park, when he was half-dazed by fever and pain from the fresh wound from Mihawk, but he still noticed it.

The cook fought admirably on his own such that he never had to look out for him unlike how he sometimes did for Nami and Usopp, yet he was always aware of him even in the thick of things. Somehow, with danger pressing in on all sides, they could still sense each other, a tacit understanding between them on exactly what needs to be done, subconsciously complementing each other's attacks.

A well-placed kick to guard an unprotected back. A timely blade to intercept an unnoticed blow.

Besides, fighting against the cook every day made fighting alongside him…comfortable.

Zoro smiled again, but this time, rather contemplatively. Yes, like all the other battles, he and Sanji would face this one together.

And they hadn't lost a single fight yet.

"So help me here, shithead." He muttered warningly as he felt the fist in his hand relax when Sanji fell back into quiet slumber. "Cause if you don't, I'm going to drag you out from hell, pummel you, then kick you right back there again myself."

* * *

The room was dark, the lamp purposely set to burn low, leaving most of the room in deep restful shadows. Silently, Nami stood unnoticed in the doorway and watched the swordsman. He sat by the couch, his broad back half turned towards her, bending over to study Sanji's injury by the pale circle of light.

Suddenly, he sagged a bit with a small sigh, his fingers tightened almost unconsciously around their crewmate's hand.

Nami bit her lip. After their fiery outburst that morning, she had avoided Zoro like plague, not wanting another confrontation. At first, there was fury, hot anger that the block-head was too thick to see the severity of the situation and had the nerve to threaten her with a drawn sword.

Then, there was hurt. The animosity between him and the cook was obvious from the beginning but they were still crewmates. How could he be so callous when it was Sanji's life at stake? And it hurt to see the way he spoke and acted, as if he thought she cared for the cook even less than he did. Couldn't he see that it pained her to decide on the amputation? Couldn't he understand that she much rather have an alive, albeit handicapped, Sanji with them than to bear losing him completely to death?

But eventually, it was worry that overshadowed all those other feelings, leaving her unable to concentrate on anything all day. Now, she only wanted to know how Sanji was doing and she felt she already had her answer just by taking in the bleak scene before her.

Then, just as sudden as he had lapsed into the somber mood, Zoro straightened with newfound determination. With methodical efficiency that came with doing the task many times, he cleaned the wound mechanically. He splashed on some rum and frowned at the mere centimeter left sloshing around in the bottle with a mumble that sounded vaguely like 'bloody waste of rum'.

She cleared her throat delicately to get his attention.

He tensed, his head whipped around sharply to look at her. Eyes narrowed with recognition, his hand went immediately to one of his swords propped up against a nearby wall.

She sighed, exasperated at his unfriendly welcome. "You'll find this works better than rum." She held out the bottle of antiseptic and shook the packet of fever medication in front of her as peace offerings. "And maybe these pills might help him rest easier. I found them in the medical kit Kaya packed for us."

Zoro watched her without a word, his dark eyes wary. Then he nodded, drawing his hand away from the sword and took the items from her. She sat down beside him, her heart constricted when she saw how pale Sanji seemed and the pain etched visibly in his features.

"So how's he?" She asked, breaking the awkward silence as Zoro opened the bottle, soaking a wad of cotton liberally with the antiseptic.

"The same." He shrugged indifferently, dabbing at the wound, eyes focused and intent on his task, although Nami thought she detected a hint of tension in his voice. "He hasn't woken up yet."

"Hmmm…he won't as long as the fever stays." She mused, smoothing back the sweat-dampened blonde hair to rest a gentle hand on his forehead.

"I know." This time, she heard the strain in his voice clearly.

"Zoro." She turned to face him. "It's not too late. We could still…"

"No!" He cut her off angrily, louder than he intended. He cast a glance at Sanji before repeating his reply, more softly but with no less resolve. "No."

She had meant to have a calm, rational discussion with him but her anger rose at his stubbornness. "Zoro, please!" She hissed, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and forcing him to look at her. "This is serious! I know you hate Sanji and probably only tolerate having him on board because Luffy said for him to join us. But a life is at stake!"

Her voice trembled as she looked pleadingly into his impassive steel grey eyes. "You've got to understand. Sanji can _die_ if we don't do something!"

She had expected him to reach for his swords again or at least yell at her, so she was surprised when he did neither. "_I_ got to understand?" He laughed softly, as if amused, shaking his head. Calmly, he loosened her fingers from their grip around his shirt and turned away, busying himself with fresh dressing for the wound.

She frowned, nonplussed. His uncharacteristically placid response irritated her. "What's that supposed to mean?" She demanded.

He sighed, tying the ends of bandages together to secure it. "Nami." He said, with just a touch of annoyance. "I know you care for Sanji and think that an amputation is best for him. And I don't deny that it would probably save his life."

"But you know what his hands mean to this idiot. If he were to lose them, lose his dreams…" He studied the unconscious young man grimly, an unreadable expression in his eyes. "We can't do this to him…It'll destroy him."

"Are you saying that it's better for him to die then?" She retorted, not bothering to hide her accusing tone.

"You have dreams too, surely you understand?" He glared at her, raking a frustrated hand through his cropped green hair. "To live, yet unable to do the very thing that gives your life meaning…stuck in a miserable existence…" Unable to find the right words to express himself, he gave up with a growl.

"Sometimes, there are worse fates than death."

Then as if the matter was settled, he picked up the fever medication started to read the label. "Besides, dumbass here whines too much already." He griped tersely. "He'll be absolutely unbearable if he wakes to find his arm gone."

Nami fell silent, suddenly thoughtful as she watched the swordsman. He ignored her, shaking out two tablets and crushed them carefully before adding the powdered pills to some water. Swirling the glass to mix, he slipped a strong arm under Sanji's shoulders and sat him up. Sanji slumped against him, his head lolling against his shoulder but stirred slightly when the glass was brought to his lips. He swallowed reflexively as Zoro tipped the glass back to let some of the mixture slide into his mouth.

Then, he choked on the bitter liquid. Making an incoherent sound of distress, he pushed out blindly with one hand, nearly upsetting the medicine as he tried to shove it away.

"Shit!" Zoro cursed, steadied the glass and tilted it back further, forcing him to take more of the medicine with such brute force Nami almost jumped up to stop him. "Drink, you idiot!" And when Sanji started coughing violently, gasping for breath, he whacked him hard between the shoulder blades and that somehow managed to keep the medicine down.

"Bastard." Zoro grumbled sourly, wiping at the stray drops on the cook's chin and mouth. "Always so much bloody trouble." But she saw a hand reach up to rub distractedly at his back where he had hit him, as if in apology.

She smiled suddenly. In the past months they had been sailing together, she often wondered why Luffy hadn't chosen someone else to be their cook. After all, they didn't need gourmet dishes at every meal. Anyone who could turn up decent food would serve just as well. Especially when the fights between Zoro and Sanji grew so vicious they threatened to rock their ship off course, she found herself thinking in despair why Luffy couldn't have chosen someone who would antagonize Zoro less.

Now as she watched the swordsman settled the cook to lie back down on the couch, still swearing venomously under his breath, his movements crisp and perfunctory but not without a barely noticeable trace of concern as he drew the blankets higher up around his crewmate's shoulders, she thought she was finally beginning to understand.

They worked well together, like true nakama should, even if it was in their own strange little way.

"What are you smirking at?" Zoro's annoyed voice broke her reverie.

"Nothing." She smirked for real this time. He folded his arms firmly across his chest, clearly not believing what she said.

"I still think that you are making a _big_ mistake and I _hate_ the fact that you're stronger than me so I can't _bludgeon_ you into seeing things my way." She said, jabbing a finger at his chest with every point she made, finishing off with the bossy attitude she knew always irritated the hell out of him. "So I guess we'll just have to see who's right about this."

"But," She sighed, turning serious as she stole a glance at their crewmate who lay struggling for life. "I hope for all our sakes, you are."

* * *

Author's note: A comment on Nami. She and Zoro both care for Sanji and want to do what each thinks is best for him. Nami does have a very valid point and she just isn't willing to take as much risk as Zoro is prepared to. Basically, there isn't exactly a right or wrong decision for this. So I hope my poor storytelling skills didn't make her come across as being too heartless or cruel in her decision. 


	4. Cruel to Be Kind

Hey everyone! Much thanks and love once again for reading and reviewing! Wonderful to know that everyone's enjoying themselves.

To The Happy Stalker Ball: '_If he really IS such a great cook, he shouldn't have a problem cooking with only ONE hand!_' actually sounds like a Zoro-ish mentality. (laughs) But I guess even though the rest don't really express it, they value their hands just as much (can't make maps or hold three swords at once without them after all), so the thought of losing a hand can be quite distressing for them. (muses) And yeah, what you said about the hard decision made sense.

To Darkday Chaos: Wish there were more of Usopp? My thoughts exactly. (grin) Hence this chapter. Usopp has much to do with this fic, in fact, everyone does. When one person is in trouble, the whole team is affected. That's what being nakama is about, right? (smile) So although this fic means to center on Zoro and Sanji, I want to touch a bit on the dynamics of the crew as a whole as well.

* * *

A warning first. This chapter may be a bit gruesome and graphic. So if you're squeamish…er….please proceed with caution. 

That's all. Have a nice day.

**Cruel to Be Kind**

Hammering in the last nail, Usopp ran his hand up and down the smooth wood. The plank fitted well. Pleased, he stepped back and surveyed the rest of his repair work with a critical eye.

The storm had been short but frighteningly intense. The skies were a shade of black he had never before seen in his life and the waves were high and wild, tossing the Going Merry about as if it were a child's paper boat which it could easily swallow whole. It had been a mad scramble to secure the sails and salvage what they could of their cargo, slipping on the rain-slicked deck, half-blinded by the downpour. His heart nearly stopped several times when he heard the mast creaked ominously under the strain of the howling winds, thinking it would surely snap into two.

But they had ridden out the storm, somewhat battered in places, but generally intact. He had completed fixing the damages, and fairly well too, even if he believed so himself.

Usopp smiled approvingly but then sighed. Even though the Going Merry wasn't a large ship, she was still under-manned. They only got by comfortably with five people. This latest storm further reminded him of their invalid crewmate, and how they couldn't possibly do without him. It had only been a few months since he joined them, but he had slipped so seamlessly into their lives; Usopp found himself missing him terribly.

His mood grew somber as his thoughts turned to Sanji. Their cook wasn't doing so well. He was getting steadily worse with each passing day. In the beginning, Usopp had looked in on him often, hopeful for any sign of recovery, sometimes pretending to see one to reassure himself that it was possible. But Sanji's fever wouldn't let up, his breathing was always a little shallower, his pulse a little fainter every time he checked.

It was difficult to pretend anymore. Now, he could barely stand being in the same room as Sanji.

The hopelessness of the situation seemed to leach cheer from the rest as well. An uncomfortable tension had stolen its way among them, leaving only their young happy-go-lucky captain untouched, still firm in his cheery conviction that the next lime might just be the cure. Nami hardly spoke to Zoro, their conversation was silted, her voice tinged with an accusing tone whenever she did. Usopp found it hard to meet either of their eyes.

And Zoro bore everything with the same taciturn detachment he always had, but Usopp thought he might have caught a flicker of something once or twice in those grey eyes.

With another sigh, Usopp shook his head and wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. The air was still chilly after the storm and Nami predicted the weather would stay cold for the next few days, but making repairs was hard work. Deciding to get a drink, he headed towards the galley.

The deck was deserted. Zoro had disappeared into the cabin to check on Sanji after the storm had calmed and he hadn't seen him since. Nami had lingered a bit to assess the damage with him but was now busy in her room with her maps, figuring out how far the squall had blown them off course. Muffled and distant, he could hear Luffy puttering around below decks, checking one final time for leaks.

The kitchen door opened so suddenly, it almost knocked him over.

"Oh! Zoro, it's you." He gasped out in surprise, staggering back a step. The swordsman reached out a hand and steadied him before he could fall over.

"Ah…Usopp. Just the person I wanted to see."

Usopp immediately decided he didn't like the way Zoro was grinning at him.

The swordsman, on his best day, made him uneasy. It was not just because of his powerful build, immense strength or even the knowledge that he could cause him grievous bodily harm if he chose to.

It was the way he fought like a man possessed, allowing himself to be lost in the blood and pain, almost looking forward to it, almost reveling in it.

Almost as if he weren't human.

Usopp fought back a shudder. He liked Zoro well enough, admired him even. But he just couldn't help but feel a wee bit nervous around him.

Especially at times like this, when there was a sharp knife in his hand and a glint that bordered on madness in his eyes.

"Wh…wh…why?" He stammered, taking a small furtive step backwards, wondering if Zoro had finally snapped under the pressure of the past few days.

The grin turned ever so slightly evil. He could tell the swordsman knew was he was intimidating him, and like all such previous encounters, he was enjoying it.

"Nothing much." Zoro replied airily, favouring him with another one of his scary grins. But his tone and expression turned serious as he caught his elbow and started steering him firmly towards the cabin. "I want you to help me with something."

He laughed nervously. With Zoro's voice sounding like that, he knew it wasn't a suggestion. But he had to try. One last attempt at self-preservation.

"Um…hehehe…Luffy can help." He squeaked hopefully. "Or Nami?"

"Luffy will only make matters worse and Nami may not have the stomach for this." A push sent him stumbling into the room. "Now quit your whining."

Not good, Usopp thought in dismay, whatever Nami may not have the stomach for cannot be good.

Water had gotten into the cabin, although it had receded with the passing of the storm, his boots still squished as he walked across the floor. Thankfully, the couch was dry and Zoro had tucked another blanket around Sanji to keep back the chill. But it was obvious the wild tossing of the storm and the cold weather was bad for the cook's condition. He shivered violently, shifting fitfully under the blankets. A long painful-sounding cough rattled his chest, leaving him gasping, his features twisted in agony.

Usopp sighed and looked away, suddenly feeling like he couldn't breathe himself. The room was filled with a nauseating mix of the smell of damp wood and antiseptic.

It reeked of death.

"Here, hold this." Zoro thrusted a basin at him.

"Oh, er…what is it you want me to help you with?"

The swordsman didn't answer immediately, instead he stood silent, all trace of humor gone from his face. His eyes were frighteningly intense as he studied the knife in his hand carefully, running a finger along the sleek silver, testing the point and edge lightly with his thumb.

"Hn. At least the dumbass knows how to keep a blade sharp." He muttered approvingly.

Then, he sat down beside the couch and motioned for him to do the same. Usopp gulped and complied, clutching the rim of the basin tightly with both hands.

"Hold it under his arm." Zoro instructed as he began cleaning the knife thoroughly with antiseptic. Seeing the sniper's stricken look, he shook his head. "Don't worry, I'm not planning on going with Nami's idea. I just want to reduce the swelling a bit. Sometimes, that helps the wound to heal."

He nodded, took a deep bracing breath and breathed it out slowly. Zoro rolled back the sleeve and unraveled the bandage to reveal the injury. It was hard to tell if it was worse than when he last saw it, but the raw weeping wound surrounded by terribly bruised skin, engorged with infection was still horrible to witness.

With his mouth dry, Usopp watched with morbid fascination as Zoro calmly drew the first cut with the tip of the blade. The taunt swollen skin broke and peeled back like an overripe grape as blood, yellow with pus, burst forth.

Sanji jerked, trying to pull away, the sharp pain filtering even through his unconsciousness.

But Zoro held firm, one strong hand clasped around Sanji's thin arm. He glanced at Usopp, then took the basin from him and balanced it on his knees instead to catch the dripping blood.

"Hold him still." He ordered, his tone so grim, the sharpshooter felt a sudden chill down his spine as he scurried to comply.

The second cut bit deeper and Sanji flailed violently with a cry this time.

And the next, and the next, and the next…

Usopp struggled to keep him still, each cry of anguish that tore from the cook's throat went straight to his heart. Yet Zoro hardly seemed to hear them. His eyes were extremely focused and terrifyingly intense. There was a resolute set to his mouth and his face was strangely expressionless, not a shred of compassion or any other emotion in his features. It was a look Usopp knew he wore only at the height of a tough battle, only when his entire spirit was concentrated on a single point and that was not to lose. It was a look that came with the black bandanna shadowing his eyes and his teeth clenched around the hilt of the pristine white sword.

He had always thought Zoro looked insane in those moments, almost demonic. As if he was beyond blood, pain and death; and he couldn't care less if these things happened to other people as well.

Now with the large callused hand that could easily encircle the pale slender wrist with thumb and forefinger locked in a cruel iron grip, Usopp's fear tripled.

Sanji was no longer flailing around, just tiny twitches at the next cut, too exhausted for anything else other than gasp softly in pain. When Usopp looked, he saw tears leaking from under the closed eyelids, gliding silently down his ashen cheeks.

"Oi…Zoro…" He started, uncertain. But when the swordsman didn't cease, he forgot his fear and grabbed his hand desperately. "Stop! Stop! You're hurting him."

Cold grey eyes met his own.

"You think I'm enjoying this." A statement, not a question.

It immediately filled him with shame.

"Um…um…I…I mean…I…" He stuttered, then he took a steadying breath and drew himself up self-righteously. "Everyone knows you and Sanji are always fighting with each other. Who's to know you're not taking this chance for a little payback?"

Zoro stared at him, seeming to be caught between amusement and anger. Then he groaned in exasperation. "You're as bad as Nami!"

Shaking his head, he turned back to the wound and probed it carefully with his fingers. "If I wanted to hurt the bastard, and trust me, I do at times, I would make sure to do it properly. While he is awake. So he can feel everything to the fullest effect."

"I would also do it while he is awake so that he has a fair chance at hurting me too." He glanced at him. "It's no fun fighting when the other person can't fight back."

"What I'm doing here is trying to bleed the wound clean." With gentle precise movements, he pressed on either sides of the cut. Fresh blood welled up and trickled along the arm and dripped off the fingertips. But the ruby droplets had lost their sickly yellow tinge and were instead, bright red in colour.

Zoro allowed the wound to bleed freely for a few minutes. He cleaned the blood off and applied more antiseptic before bandaging up his arm neatly. Then, he sat studying their crewmate almost pensively.

"And," He continued as he reached out and brushed the tears from the pale cheeks roughly. "I'm doing this because this is all I can do for him right now."

He sighed, closing his eyes, for the first time showing some emotion. "Nothing's working. I've already given him as much of the fever medication as I dared…any more, and the drugs are going to kill him before the infection does."

"I'm at the end of the rope here. We can't win this-" He broke off sharply, his throat worked as his hand slowly curled into a fist. "And I _promised_ Luffy I wouldn't bloody _lose_…and that I wouldn't let shithead here _die_…"

Usopp gulped and bit his lip. "Uh, well…then maybe…maybe we should consider what Nami said…"

Zoro shook his head, a muscle in his tightly clenched jaw twitched. "It's too late for that now." He said, his voice was strained. "At this point, he is too weak to survive the blood loss if we amputate."

Hope shriveled up in his heart and died. As much as he detested the feeling of despair, he couldn't bear to see it on Zoro's face even more.

Zoro was fearless. Zoro could do anything, overcome any obstacles. Zoro always triumphed in the end, even if it meant picking himself up once or twice in between to try again.

To see that alien expression on his strong face felt like something just wasn't right with the world.

Usopp rubbed the side of his nose distractedly, overwhelmed with helplessness and the uncomfortable mood. "Well…I know of a place, you know." He started, wanting to say something, anything, that may make things right again. Involuntarily, he fell back into the familiar safety of telling his lies. "There's this magic spring…and…and whoever drank its waters would be cured!"

"Cured of any disease, anything at all!" He grinned, gaining confidence as his mind spun the tale, hope rising in his heart again as he lost himself momentarily in the story. "Do not doubt my words, my friend. For _I_, the _great _Captain Usopp, have seen it with my very own eyes."

He straightened and held a fist to his chest importantly. "I have journeyed through jungles filled with flesh-eating mice and swamps infested with blood-sucking fishes to finally arrive at the-"

"Usopp," Zoro interrupted, the weariness in his voice took the sting out of his words. "Save your stories for Luffy, okay?"

He sighed, then brightened. "Alright. But I've got one good news I can tell you that's absolutely true."

Zoro eyed him skeptically. "Yeah?"

With a conspiratal wink, he leaned in and whispered.

"The storm had washed our _entire_ supply of limes overboard."

And he was glad to see that Zoro still knew how to smile.

* * *

Author's Note: This method is considered as a minor surgical procedure and should only be performed by a trained medical professional (not that Zoro is one, but given the constraints of the situation, I think he may be excused). Please do not try this at home. 


	5. The Longest Night

Ah, reviews…lovely stuff…always such a pleasure to read. (beams) Thanks everyone for taking the trouble to leave me a note!

Some people have asked about writing more on Luffy. I'm sorry, but it was not my intention to devote one chapter to each character although it may seem that way. Yup, so Luffy won't be appearing much anymore. But with the limes gone, I imagine he must be trying to get his hands on Nami's tangerines. After all, tangerines are much like limes-taste and colour aside-they are only bigger, so they'll work even better! (laughs) Yes, he's such a dear, isn't he?

On with the chapter. Beware the angst.

**The Longest Night**

"_If it weren't for him! Him and his stupid warped priorities, his pig-headed stubbornness…it would never have come to this! Sanji would have been alright!" _

"_C'mon, Nami…don't be like this. Zoro meant well too."_

-forty-one, forty-two, forty-three-

_A trembling breath, her eyes were dry but the tears in her voice were clear as it emerged in a whisper. "He won't make it past tonight."_

-forty-four, forty-five, forty-six-

"_I'm sorry…I…I just…I can't deal with this, okay?" She ducked her head and ran from the cabin._

-forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine.

Forty-nine. Two heartbeats less from the last time he checked in the previous hour.

Zoro sighed wearily, slowly removing his fingers from Sanji's wrist.

They've tried, they all did. Nami had scrutinized every inch of her maps for any island with the remote possibility of habitation which she might have missed or they might make in good time given the favour of the winds. Luffy had sat on the sheep figurehead for hours on end gazing across the sea for any passing ships which might have a doctor they so desperately needed on board, while Usopp did the same from the crow's nest.

But there was nothing. No ship or island. Absolutely nothing but an endless uninterrupted span of ocean.

So this is how it'll end, Zoro thought as he stared idly through the window at the dark night sky.

After Nami left the cabin, he had sent Luffy and Usopp out as well, although they had both protested vehemently. But he was resolute. They do not need to see this. Nami was right, it was he who prevented the amputation, it was he who had made the decision and he should be the one to shoulder the consequences.

If this was the end, this long painful wait for the inevitable, then he would stay here and face it alone.

He frowned, his eyes roved distractedly around the room before settling on the wound and Sanji's hands. With all the fuss that idiot put up about his precious hands, he had thought that they would be flawless, although most certainly weak and useless. Indeed, the cook had beautiful hands, fine-boned and elegantly shaped, with fingers that were as long and slender as the rest of him. They were the hands of an artist, or perhaps a musician. Yet, they were surprisingly strong, with a litheness that came from years of practice in the kitchen, working at tasks that required a fine balance between strength and delicacy. There were scars too, some from times when he got careless with a knife, others left by burns that must have been serious. Every scar was a sign of his effort, each one carved with his own sweat and blood to map the journey towards his dreams.

Each a triumph, each a defeat. Each a reminder of the purpose of his life, making him who he was today.

Something resonated deeply within Zoro as he looked at them. They were not unlike the scars that marked his own body, detailing his path towards fulfilling his oath. He realized, that even now, he did not regret his decision to prevent the amputation that day.

No, he did not regret it. But sitting alone in the velvety darkness with no one there to see him, watching the moonlight cast grey misshapen shadows about the cabin that swayed eerily with the rhythm of the sea, he could finally admit to himself, he was afraid.

Yes, he was afraid. Afraid for this thin, frail friend who lay in obvious agony on the couch.

_He won't make it past tonight…_

The cook groaned, twisting under the sheets. He winced, his good hand moved clumsily to his wound, pulling awkwardly at the bandages in an uncoordinated attempt to tear the hurt away. Even the nails of the good hand, he noted, were turning blue. Sweat beaded his too pale skin and trickled heavily down his face, plastering his blonde hair to his brow and neck. The collar of his shirt was already soaked.

Zoro cursed under his breath and pushed aside his fringe to swipe a cool towel across his forehead and cheeks. Sanji's breath hitched as the cold cloth touched his fevered skin. He was trembling, tiny shivers that sent him snuggling deep into the blankets, seeking for warmth even though he was flushed from the unbearable heat that burned him from within.

Nami knew what she was talking about when she said he wouldn't last the night, Zoro thought grimly. The cook was coughing almost constantly now, sometimes even bringing a hand up to clutch at his chest, the lines of suffering deepening on his face. He was fighting hard to breathe, almost as if it took all his effort to just draw his next breath, each short laboured gasp passing audibly through his slackly opened mouth. The sound of the ragged breathing was loud in the quiet room, grating on his ears and chafing at his nerves.

Carefully, he slipped an arm beneath the cook's shoulders and propped another pillow behind to raise him a little, hoping it'll help him breath easier. Sanji moaned as he settled back down, turning towards him, eager for the additional warmth; his subconscious drawing comfort from having someone familiar near as he wandered in fevered dreams. His hands reached out, grasping blindly for something, anything. A quiet, desperate plea for help.

Zoro grimaced, his gut gave a sharp twist. He caught his hand and gripped it tightly. A great weight seemed to have settled onto his chest and his throat ached with a tightness that he couldn't seem to swallow past.

"Oi, cook." He heard himself say before he was aware he had spoken, his voice unnaturally hoarse. "…you idiot…don't…just don't…"

Sanji's bony fingers tightened convulsively around his hand. A tiny whimper escaped him as he attempted to curl into a tight ball, his body shuddering at the incredible pain.

The swordsman stared at him in anguish. He had never felt so utterly helpless in his life. It was so bloody unfair! They had beaten the Marines fair and square that day. It was not fair that something from that day should crept back and defeat them like this.

Yet, he knew life had never been reasonable. This was no more unfair than being killed by falling down the same flight of stairs you conquered every day.

But oh how he hated it! Hated this feeling of being powerless in face of fate, a weakness that no amount of training and determination can ever overcome.

An unexpected rush of anger sent him surging to his feet. He was suddenly furious with Sanji, for not taking better care of himself, for hiding his injury based on some half-baked idea it would worry them, for letting things get this out of hand.

He stood glaring down at his crewmate, his hands clenched into tight fists by his side, almost shaking with fury.

"Bastard! You know what you've done." He shouted at him. "Don't be a coward, trying to slip away. Come face me if you have the guts to. Come on, open your eyes and face me!"

Then, just as quickly as the anger had struck him, it left, leaving him drained. It was not Sanji's fault for the wound, the infection or how bad things got. If he blamed the cook for these things, he could blame himself equally for not noticing he was ill. There were small signs before, now that he thought back to the weeks after the Marines attack, like how he had seemed quieter than usual and how he favoured his injured arm.

Feeling deflated, he sank to his knees by his side.

"Nami said you won't last till morning, you know." He went on conversationally, absently straightening the blankets, trying to make Sanji comfortable. "Idiot, can't you for once-just this once-_not_ do as that woman says?" He asked fervently. There was a pleading note in his voice and he was glad no one else was around to hear it.

"Are you really that _weak_ that you can't even defeat this stupid infection?"

A long silence punctuated only by the sounds of uneven breathing and harsh coughing answered him.

Zoro shook his head, realizing he had been holding his breath, half-expecting the cook to open his eyes and leapt up to prove him wrong, the way he did every time he delivered an insult or took a jibe at his strength. He huffed out a short laugh, feeling foolish that he had been speaking to the cook at all, when he obviously couldn't hear and even more unlikely to respond.

"But of course," He continued bitterly anyway with a smirk. "you won't do as I say. It would be just like you to go against me, wouldn't it? Seeing that you fight with me over nearly _everything_?"

He sighed, picked himself up and crossed the room so that he could sit with his back leaning against the wall. With knees curled to his chest and arms laced loosely around them, he sat watching his crewmate grimly and prepared to wait.

This was going to be a long night.


	6. Daybreak

Finally, we arrive at the final chapter. Thanks everyone, once again, for taking the time to leave me a review and any future reviews you may leave for this chapter. Your thoughts and perspectives on the story are greatly cherished. I know this is an emotionally draining story-both to read as well as write-so thanks for coming along for the ride and encouraging me to write on. (smile)

To Animegoil: Thanks for pointing out the verb tenses oddities. I'm still working on my grammar, learning to spot mistakes, so I really appreciate it when stuff like that gets pointed out.

To jksluver: I saw your review for one of my other fics "Facing Up to Reality" and yup, it has absolutely nothing to do with this story. It actually belongs to a collection of three fics I wrote, focusing on reactions of various crew members rather than on Sanji's death. (sigh) I don't hate him, he's just really convenient to have around as injured/sick/dying. (apologetic grin) Yeah, I know, I'm low on creativity…

And now, the concluding chapter.

**Daybreak**

Zoro woke to find sunshine streaming in through the window. From where he sat leaning against the cabin wall, he could see the brightening sky outside.

Morning had come.

He straightened his back stiffly, then massaged his neck, feeling the ache in his muscles from sleeping in such an awkward position. How had he fallen asleep like that? He had meant to watch over Sanji until…

He froze. Instantly, his eyes went to the couch and the perfectly motionless figure on it.

That was when he noticed how quiet the room was. No desperate gasps of ragged breathing, no fits of dry, hacking coughing; sounds that were painful to hear but a thousand times preferable to this unbearable deathly silence.

The lead weight on his chest returned, heavier than ever. Zoro closed his eyes and sagged back against the wall.

It was over. They had lost.

_Sanji…_

He took a deep breath and stood, forcing himself over to the couch and looked down at his crewmate.

The cook was motionless, a kind of complete stillness he had never before seen in any live thing. His face was white as a sheet but relaxed, no longer tensed with pain or flushed from fever. One hand lay quiet across his middle while the other rested by his side. Early morning sunlight shone softly on his pallid features, bringing out the gold in his fine blond hair that fell carelessly across his cheek. He looked serene and strangely fragile, perhaps even faintly ethereal.

Who would have thought that the bastard who was a right and proper pain-in-the-ass when he was alive could look almost angelic in death?

Of course, Zoro thought with a bitter smirk, it's precisely because he's dead.

His head bowed and he turned away with a sigh. But suddenly, he caught a tiny movement from the corner of his eye. Unable to believe what he saw, he spun around and stared.

There! So slight that he had missed it previously. A tiny, regular rise and fall of breathing.

In an instant, Zoro had seized Sanji's wrist with one hand, fumbling for a pulse, while he felt his forehead with the other.

Unbidden, a smile spread across the swordsman's face at the drumming against his fingertips, stronger than and not as slow as it had been last night. The cook was still running a slight temperature but somehow, during the night, the dreadful fever had broken.

It was as he had always believed, Sanji was going to get better.

Stunned by this unexpected turn of events, his knees gave out all of a sudden. And so it was with much surprise, and perhaps some annoyance, Zoro found himself sitting on the floor, still grasping Sanji's hand tightly with his own.

"Hmph! About time, shithead." He grumbled, slowly releasing his hand. The shock and tremendous relief were gradually fading, replaced by a vague irritation he had come to recognize as the feeling the cook always managed to inspire in him.

As if roused by an obligation to reply to the insult, Sanji stirred. His eyelids fluttered and he opened his eyes with a little groan.

For a moment, he lay there, thin, weak and terribly pale, looking awful with blonde hair all disheveled and pain still lingering in his eyes; but awake and undoubtedly alive.

Altogether, Zoro decided as he watched him, it was a rather satisfying sight.

Sanji stared at the ceiling for a bit, disoriented, blinking stupidly up at the rafters, then turned his head to squint sleepily at the sunlight falling on the window. "It's morning already?" He wondered to himself rather confusedly, his voice scratchy from disuse.

"Yeah, it's morning. You're blind or something?"

He glanced over at Zoro, then closed his eyes with a despairing sigh. "Great, just great." He drawled, the familiar note of sarcasm in his voice made Zoro absurdly glad. "The first thing I see in the morning just _had_ to be your stupid, ugly face."

And before Zoro could respond, he rubbed a hand wearily at his eyes and tried to sit up, wincing with the effort. "I can't believe I overslept…need to get breakfast ready…"

He caught his shoulder and stopped him easily. "We've already missed a few breakfasts." Pushing him firmly back to lie down on the couch, he couldn't help but feel a little smug enjoyment at the indignant surprise on Sanji's face at how much stronger than him he currently was. "One more won't hurt."

"A few?" The cook spluttered. "But how…why…?"

"Your stupid wound, of course." He scowled, handing him a glass of water which Sanji accepted with an equally grouchy frown, propping himself up on one elbow to drink. "The infection was pretty bad. You've been unconscious for days. We've tried everything but the fever won't break, and-"

He broke off abruptly. Saying things out loud, remembering what had happened in the past few days, realizing once again how close they came to losing Sanji, made his voice catch in his throat unexpectedly.

…_and you almost died…_

The band of ice clenched around his heart these past few days, the one that had started to melt when Sanji first opened his eyes, seized up all of a sudden.

He turned away so that the cook wouldn't see his face and tried to shake himself out of the strange mood that had suddenly overcome him, getting very angry with himself.

_This is absolutely ridiculous!_ His hands curled into tight fists, as he sought to regain his composure.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he spun around to face the cook again. "And do you know how much trouble you caused, you useless piece of shit?" He spat out crossly. "Damn it! Luffy has almost driven everyone mad with his demands for food."

"Bet you were trying to worm your way out of your fair share of work around here." He sneered.

But the anger failed to fool Sanji. He studied him seriously with a small frown, his blue eyes dark and thoughtful. Zoro glared back, annoyed but stoic under the scrutiny.

He didn't know what tipped Sanji off; perhaps it was the shadow of whatever this thing he was feeling reflected in his eyes, or the stiffness in the way he held his shoulders, or even the slight waver in his voice he hadn't been able to entirely disguise. Whatever it was, he saw understanding dawn in the cook's eyes, his expression softened almost imperceptibly.

"Who're you calling useless, cabbage-head?" He challenged in his usual mocking manner. "And funny how the lazy-ass who does the _least_ around here knows what _fair-share-of-work _is." His voice was dangerously low, like it always got when he was spoiling for a fight, but the look never left his eyes.

And as he passed the empty glass back to Zoro when he held out his hand for it, he grasped the swordsman's hand tightly, briefly; to show that he understood how close it had been, how much Zoro had gone through, and how bad it had scared him.

It was his way of thanking him. His apology for worrying him.

Zoro nodded. This was the way they communicated. It's funny that they fought and quarreled every day, yet all the words they exchanged never meant anything. But a quick glance during battle when they stood together against the enemies, a clasp of the hand or a simple nod, they instantly know what the other meant.

Because the truly important things between friends never have to be spelled out in words.

Suddenly, Zoro found himself grinning, caught between the most illogical wish to give his crewmate a bone-crushing hug and an unexplained urge to beat him up. He did neither of those things. Instead, a low rumble started in his chest and erupted as a throaty laugh which he didn't seem to be able to stop, the tension of the past few days dissolving away with it.

Sanji stared incredulously at him for a moment as if he thought his crewmate had finally lost what little of his mind that was originally present. Then, he shook his head and joined in, laughing till he was wheezing for breath.

Still chuckling, Sanji flopped back onto the couch. "You weirdo."

"Likewise, bastard."

He kicked out at him with a curse, but finding he didn't yet have the required strength and it was impossible to attack properly with his legs under the blankets, he gave up.

"Ah, my poor lovely Nami-san…" He lamented instead, pressing a hand theatrically to his heart. "How she must have suffered these few days without my loving attention and with only such unbearable dolts for company."

"Hn." Zoro raised an eyebrow, smiling darkly. "Your _lovely_ Nami-san wanted to cut off your arm."

"She didn't!" His eyes were wide.

"Ha! Not so lovely now, huh?"

"Well…well…" He floundered for something to say. "Well, she loves me and just wants what she thinks is best for me." He sniffed haughtily. "You're just jealous of me."

He grunted and shook his head, but there was enough truth in that to deny. That woman is gonna be glad I'm right for once, Zoro thought with a smile.

A raspy cough brought his attention back to his crewmate. Sanji was clearly not fully recovered yet. His searching gaze took in the shadows under the cook's eyes and the gauntness of his pale face. And judging by the glassy look in his eyes and the way he was pinching the bridge of his nose tightly as he sprawled limply on the couch, Zoro could tell he was already tired out by their brief exchange.

He needed rest and would do well to lie on that couch for a couple more days at least. Yet knowing Sanji, and the stubborn idiot that he was, he would be messing around that precious kitchen of his before the day was out.

But for now, he was worn-out and fading rapidly towards sleep. He made an effort to stay awake, struggling to keep his drooping eyelids open and mustered a half-hearted frown as he watched Zoro take his arm and started to unravel the bandages.

"The 'ell you're doin'?" Sanji growled drowsily, trying to pull his hand away but was still too unwell to put up any real fight.

"Stop that, will you?" Zoro told him irritably and yanked the arm back with a sharp tug, smirking at the wince it produced. "Got to change the dressing and make sure the infection doesn't come back, dumbass." He snorted in derision. "You weren't awake to see but I don't _ever_ want to fight with Nami for your hand again."

Sanji rolled his eyes and uttered a rude noise. "You have no idea how wrong that sounds."

He blinked and made a disgusted face. "Keep your perverted thoughts to your perverted self, love-cook."

"I'm most certainly not perverted!" He retorted hotly. "Besides, you can't even inspire a single perverted thought in a sow in heat."

Zoro had something snide to say about his crewmate's seemingly intimate knowledge of sows in heat but decided it'll keep. Soon, he promised himself gleefully, when Sanji was looking a little less pale and not half as exhausted as he was now, then they'll have a real fight.

In the meantime, he was content to shoot a fiery glare at him with a sour grunt, and concentrated on examining the wound. It was still red, but the swelling has gone down a fair bit. With care, it should heal cleanly, leaving nothing more than a scar in its place.

Sometime between applying the antiseptic and tying off the bandages, Sanji fell asleep,nuzzling into the pillow with a murmuring sigh. Not the troubled, unnatural coma but a deep healing, restful sleep.

"Idiot." He muttered with a faint smile as he pulled the blanket up to cover the cook more warmly.

Then, he stretched languorously with a wide yawn, scratching the back of his head idly.

He should go train, make up for all the lost time the bastard had cost him. But he was feeling sleepy too. Must be all the nights he had slept poorly these past few days.

All that shitty cook's fault again, he thought sourly with another yawn.

Maybe he'll just take a short nap first…

* * *

And that was how Nami found them when she came into the cabin with a heavy heart, filled with dreadful certainty she would find a dead cook and the swordsman proven wrong.

She had to smile as she watched them.

Sanji was sleeping peacefully curled up on his side, breathing easily, the lines of pain faded from his face. A tiniest hint of rose had found its way back into his pale cheeks. And his loyal friend-who had believed in him, who had watched over him and his dreams-slept slumped on the floor nearby, his head pillowed on the edge of the couch, one strong hand resting protectively close to the bandaged one.

A great sense of relief and affection swelled her heart as she observed her sleeping nakama.

With thief light fingers and a fond smile, she drew a blanket carefully over Zoro's shoulders and bent to brush a stray strand of blonde hair from Sanji's face. Then she crept softly from the room, closing the door quietly behind her as she went off to share the good news with the others.

**The End**

Author's notes:

Okay, that's the end. Yeah, it's a cliché 'miraculous recovery'…ahem (embarrassed cough)…but these things happen, right? (grin) Seriously though, antibiotics are usually used to treat infections. But even without it, the body's immune system can overcome the infection given time and if it is not too serious…yup, so I figured that it can happen in this story.

And don't worry, I don't only have torture planned for Sanji. Like I've said before, I'll write something in which he is relatively pain-free and reasonably happy. Hmmm…in fact, I think I'll write it next. (goes off to write, mumbling) Think happy thoughts, Erithil, happy thoughts! (smile)


End file.
